


familiar stability

by symmetricdnp



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 10:36:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13679991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetricdnp/pseuds/symmetricdnp
Summary: He’ll never feel safer than he does curled up with Phil, cut off from the outside world. He remembers when they were younger, when things weren’t yet certain. When a hug was still three hours and a significant lump of pounds away. They had dreamed of spending days in solitude together. Now it’s their reality, seven years running, and it'll surely be their forever.Dan and Phil spend Valentine's Day on the couch.





	familiar stability

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [queerofcups](http://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofcups) for being my beta! Also thanks to [fin_flora](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fin_flora) for giving me feedback.

“Dan,” Phil groans. “It’s fine, I’m not _sick_ sick.”

“Maybe you don’t have a fever anymore, but you still sound like a dying rat,” Dan says. “And you just made me get you your coffee this morning because you were whining about your body aching.”

He tosses a quilt over to where Phil is lounging on the couch. It hits him in the face, knocking his glasses off balance.

“I might have been taking advantage a little,” Phil says. He doesn't look guilty in the slightest.

Phil’s voice is raspy and broken. Dan thinks it sounds kind of sensual, but he keeps that tidbit to himself.

It also triggers that protective part of him. That flare of something hot and sweet and a bit angry that happens when someone cuts Phil off in a meeting, or when Phil is too nervous to tell a waiter they got his order wrong. Only now Dan doesn’t have a target for it, and it kind of just makes him want to wrap Phil up into a blanket burrito and uselessly pat his head.

And that’s more or less all he’s been doing the past week. Dan’s never the best at taking care of Phil when he’s sick. Phil would disagree, surely, but Dan still has a small complex about it.

“Just be quiet and enjoy a boring day of doing nothing with me,” Dan says as he flops down on the couch, Switch controller in hand.

Phil’s right when he says he isn’t truly sick. The worst of it’s passed, and now he’s just mildly weakened, but still pitiful enough for Dan to excuse his morning grumpiness and general laziness. Or maybe Dan’s just too soft on him.

Realistically, they could probably go through with the Valentine’s Day plans they originally had. Dan had thought of getting dressed up, cooking dinner together, having a little date in the comfort of their own home. Of clearing the lounge’s furniture to create a makeshift ballroom, because it sounded cheesy and hilarious and properly dancing with each other isn’t something they often do.

Though Phil’s fine now, technically, he’s still groggy. The days of drifting in and out of consciousness as Dan brought him food and water and cool damp cloths did a number on his sleep schedule. Dan doesn’t want to push him.

As he gets settled, he glances over to Phil to find him looking at him with those puppy dog eyes he's so familiar with. He still can never tell if they’re intentional or not.

“I’m sorry, Dan. I know you like special occasion stuff,” Phil says.

And he does. Most of Dan’s affection comes wrapped in layers of sarcasm, all rolled eyes and snark, tinged with an unmistakable fondness that Phil has always, always picked up on. But a part of him still worries.

Occasions give him an excuse. They give him an excuse to squeeze Phil’s knee and tell him how happy he is with the life they’ve built together, how he fantasized but never truly believed he’d end up with someone like him. Sometimes he’d follow up with a quip about how it’s their anniversary, sod off, but usually he’d bite back the urge and just enjoy the warmth from Phil's responding smile.

His everyday love takes on the form of gestures. It’s him waking Phil up to the smell of pancakes and claiming he’d just had a craving. It’s him being strict about their monthly date nights that Phil had been half-joking about establishing. It’s him using any event he can as justification to show a side of vulnerability he normally doesn’t.

“It’s okay,” Dan says. “The only thing we’re really missing out on is the mindblowing sex I had planned. That’s right, my present to you… was myself.”

“In that case, I would’ve rather used it to have you wash the dishes or something,” Phil says with a shrug.

“I see. I knew I’ve spoiled you too much.” He shakes his head wistfully. “You’ve gotten too used to getting it good.”

“The last sex we had was dry handjobs under the duvet because we were about to pass out. You didn’t even finish before you started snoring.”

“Like I said, getting it good.”

“You’re lucky you bring in the views,” Phil grumbles.

Dan ignores him and scrolls through his Twitter feed. They sit in silence, punctuated by nothing but Link’s grunts and yells. He feels Phil lean against him, and he absentmindedly pets Phil’s thigh under the blanket.

***

Dan is startled out of his trance when Phil’s phone dings. They’d taken to switching off playing when Phil died, but it regressed to Dan just watching. He grunts as he reaches for his phone and tosses it over to him.

“Secret lover trying to set up a Valentine’s Day rendezvous?” Dan asks. He stretches wide, groaning and shivering at the feeling.

“Dan, I have my second phone for that.” Phil rolls his eyes as he quickly checks the notification. “It’s my aunt. Some generic group text to the family about love and stuff.”

“The one you told about dogs or the one with the hair?”

“The dog one.”

Several years ago Phil had been at a family gathering and had gotten caught in a conversation about marriage with her. He’d deftly dodged her questions only to later ramble about how he’d been researching dogs and thought one would do a lot of good for his flatmate, Dan, though he wasn’t sure if they were ready for the responsibility.

Phil had said he didn’t know her well enough to tell if she caught on. Dan couldn’t tell if he wanted her to or not.

Dan yawns. “You want lunch or something?”

“‘M fine,” Phil mumbles.

Dan resumes his position slumped against Phil, but Phil doesn’t unpause the game. He glances over and finds him looking at him with an expression he can’t quite place.

“You don’t have to stay here with me. I know you feel bad since it’s Valentine’s Day, but I’d feel worse if I ruined your day,” Phil says. He quickly glances away.

It used to annoy Dan that Phil was never straightforward when it came to his wants and needs. He’s gotten better about it over the years, but he’s still too concerned with other people for his own good. He doesn’t think Phil’s lying, exactly, but he knows what he really means—he’d like if Dan stays with him as long as Dan isn’t forcing himself.

“You really think there’s something I’d rather be doing than spending time with you?” Dan asks and nudges Phil’s arm. He intends it as sarcasm, but he words it wrong and it comes out completely sincere. He internally fumbles.

Phil seems caught off-guard too, but he smiles small and pleased. “Cute. Thanks, Danny-pie.”

Dan is thankful for the break in the atmosphere. He cracks his knuckles. “You sure you want to start with the gross nicknames? Is that really a game you want to play?”

He leans in, cupping Phil’s face in his hands and brushing a thumb across it. “Because I’m always ready, Philly-boo. Dearest beloved. Bunny muffin. My perfect little angel face.”

“No, I’m sorry!” Phil looks horrified and tries to yank away, but Dan holds him tight. His cheeks squish together and his puffed out fishlips muffle his words. “Please forgive me, Daniel.”

Dan plants an intentionally sloppy kiss on the side of Phil’s mouth before pulling back. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t test me, Lester.”

Phil scoots to the other end of the couch and wipes his face. “I hate you, Dan.” He pauses. “The last one was accurate, though.”

***

Eventually they did have to break for some sustenance. Dan was adamant about returning to the couch, but Phil was strangely antsy.

“Should we like… film a gaming video or something?” Phil asks.

“Are you shitting me? You want to talk about work on bloody Valentine’s Day?” Dan hopes his glare conveys his exasperation. “And what, we’re going to film another charades video?”

Phil fidgets. “Okay, I know, but we’re not really doing anything and I feel guilty. I dunno.”

“We are doing something. We’re on a date. A couch date.”

Dan pats the spot next to him and Phil rolls his eyes, though he's smiling.

“Don’t we do that every night?” Phil snorts as he sits down.

“It’s special, okay? Don’t question it.”

Dan lays his head on Phil’s shoulder and nudges against his neck until Phil reaches up and starts petting through Dan’s hair. He uses his nails to scratch with just the right pressure, leaving Dan warm and tingling.

“Shouldn’t you be doing this to me?” Phil asks, his voice a low rumble.

“Mate, you’ve milked your post-sick privileges dry by now. And I gave you a full-on massage the other day, you twit.”

Phil hums and trails his hand lower to knead at the back of Dan’s neck and shoulders.

“Oh, shit, Phil,” he moans obscenely. Phil’s laughter shakes him.

He’ll never feel safer than he does curled up with Phil, cut off from the outside world. He remembers when they were younger, when things weren’t yet certain. When a hug was still three hours and a significant lump of pounds away. They had dreamed of spending days in solitude together. Now it’s their reality, seven years running, and it'll surely be their forever.

And he can allow himself to think that—forever. The thought of stagnation used to terrify him. Some days the looming scale of it can still catch up to him, but things are different. Their life is different. They both speak of a future together as a given certainty, while other things have shifted from _when_ to _if_.

If they get married, they'll need to get lilies for the ceremony. If they have kids, Dan’ll have to keep them the hell away from Phil in the kitchen.

They desire what they once did just as strongly, but the sense of urgency is gone. Dan no longer feels like what he has isn’t tangible enough, like he needs something he can show to the invisible panel of judges that resides in his mind.

Those things are for the two of them, only them. Everything is. Dan chose what to prioritize long ago.

***

The day doesn't turn out as unproductive as Dan had intended. He ends up answering some emails and even schedules a meeting. Any issues Phil had with doing nothing were apparently squashed, as he spends his time drifting between Netflix and some pointless pay-to-win app he’d gotten addicted to.

Phil’s in their bathroom brushing his teeth, Dan lounging on the bed. Dan hears him spit and gargle. He's heard it hundreds of times, but something tonight makes him aware of the casual intimacy of it, of having someone going through a private routine in a joint space.

“By the way, are we having sex tonight?” Phil calls out. Dan groans and rolls over, throwing an arm over his face.

“Phil, how many times do I have to tell you to pay more attention to the mood? Try a little seduction, be a little subtle?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day!” Phil squeaks, peeking out of the bathroom. “That’s like… an instant mood. You even said your present was yourself!”

“Here I was feeling all wholesome, and you were just thinking about getting me naked? For shame, Phil Lester.” He tries to suppress the smile he can feel blossoming.

“You’re the one that got the idea in my head,” Phil pouts.

Dan sits up and walks over to him. He pats his shoulder. “You’re an old man still recovering, you sure you should be moving around?”

“If you’re so concerned, you could just blow me or something.”

“Hell no. I haven’t gotten some in forever, I’m not that selfless. And get out of the bathroom, I need to get ready.”

Phil steps out of his way but pokes him on the side. “Is that a yes?”

“What part of _I need to get ready_ do you not get?” Dan asks, attempting to punctuate with eyebrow raises.

He hears a sheepish “oh” as he closes the door.

“You’re just as eager!” comes Phil’s muffled voice.

***

Dan rolls Phil’s nipples between his fingers while he mouths at a spot on the side of his neck. Phil’s face is flushed a splotchy dark red, his hair pushed back in an unintentional quiff. His hips keep stuttering out of rhythm every time Dan works him particularly skillfully, and he occasionally slows down so much he may as well be stopped. Dan doesn’t mind.

It’s a new phenomenon. Phil typically doesn’t get so worked up, at least not so fast. Dan’s not sure if it’s from Phil being out of it or Valentine’s Day magic or something else entirely, but he’s being almost needy, clingy.

Dan just enjoys the closeness of it, the confidence boost from the confirmation that he can make Phil lose his composure.

“You’re… you’re going to make me come,” Phil eventually pants out.

Dan’s stomach squirms pleasurably and he runs a hand along Phil’s back, trying to coax him closer.

“Good. Just come.”

That seems to break something in Phil, and he muffles a cry against Dan’s shoulder as he rocks his hips forward.

That protective feeling from earlier is back, and Dan brings his hand up to stroke through Phil’s hair. He whispers generic encouragement into his ear, pants hot breaths and sucks gently at the lobe. It’s an unfair move, one that always works, one that has him whimpering out a quiet chant of Dan’s name.

The angle’s off and Phil’s doing those long thrusts that don’t really do much for Dan. But just the knowledge of what’s happening, the mental image of Phil coming inside him, makes him buzz with anticipation.

They usually like to wear a condom purely for the sake of clean-up. Dan had forgotten how much he loves this.

He can’t feel it happening, but he knows. He knows from how Phil’s thrusts turn erratic and choppy, how his jaw goes slack and he stops breathing for a few palpable seconds. He releases his breath all at once, a violent exhale coupled with him squeezing Dan’s upper arms a bit too tight.

Dan feels lightheaded and an odd urge to both laugh and kiss him. Phil’s slumped over him panting, eyes squeezed shut. He doesn’t take long to bask in it before he pulls out. Dan feels himself clench and throb at the loss, and he’s reminded that he still hasn’t come.

Phil's still effectively pinning him to the mattress with his weight. Dan taps his back, too far gone to use his words. Phil makes an ambiguous noise that could be a complaint and rolls off of him.

Dan immediately starts roughly jerking himself. His eyes dance across Phil’s blissed-out face, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his slicked cock is slowly softening against his stomach.

He comes recalling the way he could feel Phil shaking as he lost it pressed deep inside him. The force behind it takes him by surprise, leaves him gripping a handful of his own hair and bucking aimlessly.

“Fuck,” Dan gasps. “Fuck.”

He's still even when he's finished, as if he's afraid of breaking a spell. He can feel Phil's half-lidded gaze on him as he waits for his heartbeat to stop pounding in his ears.

They don’t always go so intense. Sometimes they’re simple, sometimes they’re indifferent, sometimes they stop part way through so they can just go to sleep.

But some nights are like tonight. Passionate and messy and likely unsightly if looked upon by anyone else, meaningless if taken as a part but crucial to the fragment of the world they’ve secured for themselves.

Phil just giggles, a loopy, happy sort of sound. Dan reaches over with a trembling hand and taps his cheek for no discernible reason.

As the afterglow wears off, he remembers why they don’t do this very often. He thanks his past self for laying out a towel.

“I need to clean up. You should hop in the shower,” Dan says. Phil groans.

“Don’t be lazy. You’ve been needing to take one anyway. Join in five minutes, I’ll wash your hair and everything.” He forces himself out of bed, away from the comfort and warmth and contentment.

“Blackmail,” Phil weakly calls out to him.

***

There has been something lurking in the back of Dan’s mind all day, wordless but undeniably present.

He gets worried sometimes. Worried about things he truly has no need to give second thought to, at least at this point in their life. He's come to recognize when it's happening, but it doesn't make it feel any less critical.

Lying in the dark with his back pressed to Phil's, he knows it's pointless. They talk about things, of course they do. They always had, it was one of the reasons they fell so hard so fast.

“Hey, does it make you sad we can’t go out for Valentine’s Day?”

But Dan still needs the reassurance on occasion.

“Not at all,” Phil says without pause.

Dan isn't surprised that Phil picks up on what he means from something so contextless and out of the blue, but it pleases him all the same.

Phil rolls over and slings himself over Dan. He buries his face in his shoulder.

“You’re my best friend,” Phil murmurs as he kisses the skin closest to him.

“Yeah,” Dan says, and he thinks there’s really no higher praise in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos appreciated, and you can like/reblog the fic on tumblr [here](http://symmetricdnp.tumblr.com/post/170874130444/).


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